


Sunny Boyfriend

by gwenweybourne



Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dolenzsmith, Established Relationship, Love, M/M, Muses, Nudity, One Shot, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut, Songwriting, show-verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23239429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenweybourne/pseuds/gwenweybourne
Summary: Mike wakes up with an idea for a song, but it's so hard to concentrate with Micky in bed with him ...
Relationships: Micky Dolenz/Mike Nesmith
Comments: 32
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This little one-shot was happily inspired by [this lovely NSFW-ish illustration](https://travelogues-of-maybe-next-year.tumblr.com/image/613139224858869760) by [usedusernames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/usedusernames/pseuds/usedusernames), who also writes amazing Monkees fic and you should be reading it, too.

It came to him in a dream. A song — a nearly fully formed, beautiful little thing. Every time it happened Mike worried it would be the last. But they kept coming and he’d hurry to write them down before they flew away into someone else’s dream for them to poach. Because the songs were impatient. They didn’t wait around for long. If you missed it, you missed it. He was pretty sure he’d lost at least a few to Johnny Cash and Elvis and damned if he was gonna let that happen again.

The sun was just beginning to rise as Mike slowly sat up in bed and reached for the pencil and pad of paper he kept there every night for just this reason. He didn’t turn the light on because he didn’t want to disturb his lover any more than he already had.

But Micky stirred anyway, blinking blearily at Mike, who was settling back against the headboard, already scribbling frantically.

“Mike, what’re you doin’?” he complained, even though he knew very well what Mike was doing. This wasn’t the first time Mike had dreamed a song since they had started sharing a bed.

“Shhhh, go back to sleep, Micky. I gotta write this down or I’ll lose it.”

“Mmmm, come back to bed, Mike,” Micky whined softly.

Mike chuckled. “I haven’t left the bed, babe.”

“You know what I mean … come back … down here. With me.”

“In a bit. Come on, sleepyhead. Use me as a pillow. Though I don’t got much stuffin’ to offer.” He patted his thigh. He was wearing a pair of red boxer shorts. For some reason he’d never liked the feeling of sleeping in the nude. Even if they’d just made love, as they had tonight, Mike put his shorts back on in order to sleep.

Not so for Micky. Mike had a feeling that if it were up to his boyfriend, he’d never wear clothes at all. It had taken some time to get him to stop walking around the Pad starkers, though Mike had not so secretly minded it so much. And Micky had just been trying to get his attention in the end. And did he ever …

Micky made an agreeable sound, smacking his lips sleepily as he kicked off the blanket and shifted up, laying his head in Mike’s lap, pressing a kiss to his thigh, and slipping his right arm around behind Mike, encircling his slender waist with his arms. “Mmmm. You got more than enough where it counts, baby.”

Mike blushed a little, slid the pencil behind his left ear and petted Micky’s messy curls for a few moments, tracing the shell of his ear with a fingertip. He was about to tell Micky he needed to concentrate, but Micky had already gone right back to sleep. Mike sometimes envied Micky’s ability to sleep. But he also gave everything he had when he was awake. In constant motion until he finally crashed. It was so rare to see Micky in repose. His boyish face looking even younger and more innocent while relaxed in sleep.

Mike lost track of time just looking at his boyfriend, lost in the wonder of his beauty. And then he realized that the early sun was beginning to stream through the window, and the song was long gone.

“Aw, shoot,” he murmured to himself, looking at the pad of paper to see if anything he’d written down made any sense, but it may as well have been in another language. He’d lost it.

Mike never wanted to get arrogant or complacent about the way songs came to him. Treating them like buses that came along predictably. But he was also pretty sure that his songwriting days were just getting started and he shouldn’t be too hard on himself over this lost one.

Because the sunbeams were streaming over Micky’s naked body, almost seeming to kiss his tanned skin, and even his little white butt that Mike loved so much. The sun picked up the fine hairs on Micky’s back and shoulders, and even made the thicker, darker hair on his arms and legs look almost golden. It streamed through his curly hair, highlighting it in shades of yellow and gold. It even touched his eyelashes and brought out the smattering of freckles across his nose.

Mike had always thought that Micky was beautiful. But in this moment he was absolutely stunning. Mike wished he had a camera, but knew even if he did, he’d never be able to take a photo that did this justice. He couldn’t draw for shit. All he was good at was music.

He looked down at his beautiful, golden sunshine boy, fast asleep in his lap, and began to write.

_He owns and operates his own sunshine factory …_

* * *

The song seemed to write itself in a matter of minutes and then Mike became consumed by tweaking it and fixing it and jotting down chord progressions as they revealed themselves in his head. He was giddy from the entire process. It felt like only a moment had passed, but then Micky was stirring and sitting up and Mike realized the sun had risen so high that it no longer touched either of them on the bed.

But he glanced at his pad and smiled. He’d captured the sun there.

“Are you _still_ writing?” Micky asked, rubbing his eyes and yawning dramatically.

“Done for now. I need to sit down with the guitar and sort it all out.”

Micky smiled. “That’s really groovy, Mike. I … don’t know how to you do it. I really don’t.”

Mike shrugged, smiling a little. “Neither do I, to be honest. It just … happens.”

“Well, thank goodness for that. We need the material.” Micky stretched and Mike enjoyed the sight of his long, lean muscles working under his smooth skin. Micky turned to face Mike. “So, what were you writing about?”

Mike hesitated for a moment, blushing. “Um … well … it’s about you.”

“Me?” Micky said, delighted. “You wrote a song about me? Well, it’s about time! I was starting to wonder when I was going to become your great muse! I mean, c’mon, isn’t that how this is supposed to work?”

Mike giggled. “Oh, hush, you silly thing …”

“Lemme see it.”

“No!” Mike whined, holding the notebook over his head as Micky made a grab for it. “It’s all raw and new … it ain’t ready yet.”

“But it’s about me … you think you can polish _me_ up? Ha! Fat chance!” Micky started climbing Mike as if he were a jungle gym and Mike finally had to give in, or else risk ending up with Micky’s foot or elbow in his mouth. Maybe at the same time. The boy didn’t seem to have a skeleton when he started getting all antsy.

Micky made a huffing _“You knew I was going to get my way so why did we have to go to all this trouble?”_ sound and settled into Mike’s lap to read the lyrics as Mike, shaking his head ruefully, slipped his arms around Micky’s slender body and nuzzled into his neck, kissing behind his ear and enjoying the feel of his boyfriend’s curls tickling his face.

Then Micky put down the pad and turned his head, nudging Mike to look at him. Mike reluctantly met his gaze, nervous and a little self-conscious. He hated having anyone read his work when he’d only just come up with it.

“It’s amazing,” Micky said softly, smiling. “I can’t believe you wrote that about me. It’s incredible, Mike. You … see me that way?”

Mike nodded. “Of course I do, Micky. Of course I do. God … you’re the best thing in my life. You’re my …”

“Sunny Boyfriend,” Micky finished, smirking. “Oh, you sweet thing, you …” He looked down at the paper again, his smile turning a little sad. “You do realize you’ll have to change the pronouns, right?”

“Yeah, I know. But when I was writing it … I didn’t wanna pretend I was writing it about some chick. It’s about you, Mick. It’s your song. It’s our song.”

“I’ll know. And you’ll know. That’s all that really matters,” Micky said softly. “I love you, Mike.”

“I love you, too, Micky.”

And then Mike gently removed the notepad from Micky’s hand and eased him down onto the bed, kissing his mouth slowly and deeply. Micky’s body was still so warm from the sun and Mike wanted to feel it. Absorb it into his bones. It was as warm and strong and ever-present as Micky’s love.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's date night and Micky is taking forever getting ready. Mike decides to check up on him and gets an eyeful ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating upped to Explicit due to sexual content in this chapter. Tags changed accordingly.
> 
> Well, [usedusernames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/usedusernames/pseuds/usedusernames) followed up with another [incredible Dolenzsmith drawing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23266585) (this one is very NSFW), and I just had to add another chapter to go with it. I hadn't written any smut in a while anyway, so this was fun. It's a good time for us to get inspired by one another and just Keep Making Stuff.

If Mike had to rank the Monkees in terms of vanity or fastidiousness, he’d put Davy at the top of the list, and probably himself second. Mike didn’t consider himself to be the vain sort, but he did like things to be orderly and his side of the room he shared with Micky was nearly always pretty tidy, while Micky seemed to live out of a pile of clothes on the floor that underwent a daily sniff test. When he was wearing clothes. Peter fell solidly into the middle, but when it came to dating, Micky suddenly ratcheted up to Davy’s level of fussiness. The fact that Micky was dating Mike made no difference.

Mike checked his watch and made a face. He’d built in a safeguard for tonight in case Micky was especially poky in getting ready, but he’d been in the bathroom for at least an hour. The shower had turned off over twenty minutes ago. If anything, Mike was just curious about what he got up to in there.

Tonight was a bit special. There was a really happening new joint in town. The kind of place that required reservations. And Mike had been able to land one. But it wasn’t a stuffy or hoity-toity kind of restaurant. Mike never felt comfortable in places where the menus weren’t in English and they played classical music and folded your napkin for you if you had to get up to take a whiz. Not that he’d ever dined in a place like that, but in his pre-Monkees days he’d had a very short-lived busboy job in such an establishment. He quit after old fogey snobs complained about his “unkempt appearance” and his boss demanded Mike get a haircut or get fired.

But this was kind of the place to be seen these days and Mike wanted to check it out. Partially for business reasons. They might meet some people there who might be able to give them a job. But also, they’d been working hard lately and Mike had made an effort to save every penny of his own personal money so he could take Micky out for a groovy night.

So, that was one reason Micky was taking a long time. Mike knew he’d be working on his hair and picking the perfect colorful silk tunic to wear (one out of the closet and not the floor-pile, even!), and even though they weren’t flaunting their relationship, Mike wanted to show off his boy. His beautiful, sweet, weird Micky. For one night, Mike wanted to be like everyone else who made a decent living and took their partners out on a Saturday night to show them a good time.

Finally, he sighed and walked over to the bathroom door and knocked.

“Occupied!” Micky called out.

“It’s just me,” said Mike. “Can I come in? You’re not on the can, are ya?”

Micky laughed. “No. Just … close the door behind you, okay?”

Mike opened the door and slipped inside. “I love ya n’all, but there are still some things that I think a fella needs to do privately, y’know … well, hi there …” Mike trailed off, closing the door and leaning against the frame as Micky turned to him and smiled, stark naked as he gently towel-dried his curly hair.

“Hi.”

Mike let out a low whistle, taking in Micky’s naked form. “Boy … I say … I say … _boy_. Have I told you lately how sexy you are?”

Micky grinned, his cheeks pinking even more under the flush on his skin after his shower. “Define _lately_.”

Mike unashamedly let his eyes wander over Micky’s body: his slim arms, flat furry belly, and the trail of hair that led down to his cock. Mike watched with interest as Micky immediately started to get an erection.

“Mmmm. Have I also told you I love how you get hard at the drop of a hat?”

“Just the drop of your hat, maybe,” Micky attempted wordplay, blushing more. “It’s the way you look at me … no one … no one’s ever looked at me the way you do.”

Mike took a step inside. “Then everyone else is blind as a bat, and lucky for me. Because I love lookin’ at ya.” He took his eyes off Micky’s cock and looked into his eyes, smiling. “And I know I can make you hard by lookin’ at you. I love it. But you do the same to me, y’know.” He moved even closer.

Micky took the towel off his head, letting it drop to the floor as he let his eyes drift lower to Mike’s groin, where his bulge was clearly outlined in his jeans.

Mike gave a coy smile. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Micky frowned. “We can’t — the reservation’s at seven, isn’t it?”

Mike smirked. “The reservation’s at eight, Mick; I told you it was seven so we’d get there on time.”

Micky’s mouth dropped open in mock indignation. “What a dirty trick! You think I can’t get ready on time without resorting to such cheap chicanery?”

Mike shook his head solemnly. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Well, you’d be correct,” Micky said, grinning, stepping up to Mike. “But if we’re late, it’s on you because I’ll probably have to shower again when we’re through.”

“Not probably,” Mike purred. “Definitely. Now open up my pants. I got somethin’ for ya.”

Micky laughed, and then slowly undid Mike’s belt, sliding the smooth, dark leather through the buckle, then popping open the button and lowering the zip. He’d done this so many times before, but it still thrilled him. Still took him back to the first time he hooked up with Mike. The first time Mike let Micky undress him and touch him and taste him and be with him. Micky still couldn’t get enough. He slipped his warm hand into Mike’s underwear and let out a sigh as he brought out Mike’s cock, which was so hard in his hand. Steel covered in warm velvet.

“For me?” he cooed in mock surprise. “Aw, you shouldn’t have!”

“All for you,” Mike said with a lascivious grin, and then he leaned in, cupping the back of Micky’s neck and kissing him, long and slow, slipping his tongue into his mouth.

Micky moaned and let Mike inside, squeezing his cock and leaning in closer.

Mike wrapped his fingers around Micky’s length and began to stroke him slowly. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled between kisses. “You make me crazy …”

Micky gasped at Mike’s touch. “Mike … oh god …”

Maybe it was walking in on Micky when he was naked and freshly bathed. Maybe it was watching his lover’s cock get hard just from Mike looking at him — which made him feel like a virile he-man — or maybe it was Micky’s shower-damp skin against Mike’s clothed chest, the sweet floral scent of his shampoo and the tangy taste of his mouth, like he’d just eaten oranges … but Mike had to have him. Immediately.

“I want you,” he murmured against Micky’s trembling lips.

Micky nodded frantically. “I need you. Please.”

That was all he needed to hear. He kissed Micky one last time and then turned him around and bent him over the bathroom countertop. He reached into the top drawer and pulled out a jar of Vaseline. Micky rested his forearms on the counter and whined impatiently as Mick slicked himself up and stroked Micky gently, easing a finger in, but they had sex nearly every day, so he didn’t need much preparation anymore.

He leaned forward and trailed kisses over the ridges of Micky’s spine as he slowly pushed into him.

Micky let out a low groan, his fingers clawing against the countertop.

Mike held Micky’s hips in his hands and began to thrust slowly, letting out a deep groan of pleasure. Micky so hot and tight around him.

“I love you,” he groaned, sliding one hand up the smooth length of Micky’s back, watching his cock moving in and out of him, watching Micky’s curls bounce with each hard thrust.

“I love you, too,” Micky sighed. “Oh god, it’s so fucking good … Mike … fuck me …”

Mike had a big cock and he liked to fuck, and he best liked to fuck hard. He could make love, sweet and slow, and sometimes that’s what he wanted with his boyfriend, but if he really got going, he liked it hard and deep. And Micky could take all he had to give and more. “Ain’t never met anyone like you … anyone who’s so good with me … you’re the best, Micky … the best fuck, the best person … the best everything, I swear it … I swear, love …” Mike cut off his babble before he really embarrassed himself and began to really give it to Micky, who cried out in pleasure, his back arching, his head falling forward, and Mike idly hoped they weren’t about to accidentally destroy the countertop with their weight and frantic movement. Babbitt would flip out.

Well, hell, he definitely didn’t want to think about his landlord during sex. Bummer. Shaking his head, Mike reached around and took Micky’s hard cock in his hand and began to stroke him in time. Micky let out another shuddery cry.

And then there was another sound … like someone yelling, but it wasn’t Micky, so Mike ignored it and kept fucking Micky, thrusting into him passionately, his naked thighs slapping against his ass, his pants pooled around his ankles, jerking Micky off, until he felt Micky tensing up and he smiled, because then Micky let out another cry and he was coming, his muscles squeezing around Mike as he ejaculated over Mike’s fingers, letting out great gasping breaths. Mike released him and gripped his hips hard and pounded into Micky for another few moments until he climaxed, throwing his head back with a groan and pumping his hips as the pleasure washed over him.

Gasping, Mike took a few moments to rest his sweaty forehead on Micky’s back before slowly pulling out, watching his semen well and drip from Micky’s hole. Panting, Micky slowly stood up straight, though his legs felt like Jell-O.

And then they both nearly jumped out of their skins as there was a sharp rapping on the door.

“Oi! Are you two _quite_ through? I’m tryin’ to have me supper and you two are goin’ at it like rabid bunnies ten bloody feet away! Shared space, mates. _Shared space_!”

“Sorry, Davy!” Micky called, grinning sheepishly at Mike.

“Sorry, my arse,” Davy grumbled, hitting futilely at the door again before moving away.

Mike shook his head ruefully as he pulled up his jeans and underwear and put himself back together. “I guess that wasn’t very considerate.”

“It was extremely considerate to me and my stiffie,” Micky said with a grin, leaning in to peck Mike on the lips.

“Well, a fella’s gotta prioritize.” Mike looked at his watch. “And now that we’ve taken care of one physical need, it’s time for another. I’m starving. We gotta get goin’ before long to keep that reservation. Get back in that shower.”

“It won’t take as long … don’t have to wash my hair this time,” Micky said, leaning in to kiss Mike again.

Mike let out a small groan and slipped his arms around Micky, pulling him in to kiss him more deeply, sliding his hands down his bare back and over his ass.

Micky grinned against Mike’s mouth. “Surely you’re not ready to go again already, are you?”

“Mmmm.” Mike sighed, then purposefully released Micky and stepped back. “If I keep holding and kissing you like that, I will be … so I’m gonna split and wait for you like the good boyfriend I am. I need to get changed into my suit, anyway.”

“Won’t be but a trifle,” Micky cooed girlishly, swinging his hips to show off his little ass as he stepped into the shower.

Mike growled in the back of his throat. “I’d call you a cocktease, except you put out _way_ more than anyone else I ever been with.”

“You’re welcome!” Micky called out before turning on the water.

* * *

They never would have made it for seven o’clock, eight would be perfect. Micky emerged from their room after getting dressed and he looked incredible. Mike felt a swell of pride as Micky descended the stairs, resplendent in silk and painted-on black trousers that flared at the ankle. His hair curled in an artfully messy halo around his head. Mike stood up and smoothed down his own trousers, buttoning up his jacket and straightening his tie.

“Shall we?” Micky said with a smile.

Mike nodded, smiling happily.

“Have fun, you two!” Peter said cheerfully.

“Yeah, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” said Davy, still with an edge in his voice, but a grudging smile spreading over his face.

“So … anything goes, then!” Micky said, with a laugh. Davy laughed and threw a magazine at him, but missing on purpose.

“Try to avoid shagging before the main course!” Davy called after them.

Mike rolled his eyes and ushered Micky out the door, taking a good gander at his ass as he did so. They’d certainly try. But it was sure feeling like one of those nights …


	3. The Bookworm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micky loves to read. Mike loves to watch him read. But he gets a much naughtier idea that he knows Micky won't be able to resist ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoopsy — turned out this one wasn't done, after all. I'm going to leave it open for little Dolenzmith mini-fics. Usually inspired by [usedusernames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/usedusernames/pseuds/usedusernames)' beautiful artwork. This chapter was inspired by [this lovely Micky drawing (NSFW for nudity, but it's not pornographic)](https://66.media.tumblr.com/da41f5f91145d4012b90d30ede3dcf7e/07f94d2abfa03ea6-ea/s640x960/aab7501ef530184c8613540ddd3be6670f526edb.png).
> 
> Also, with profound apologies to the late, great Philip Francis Nowlan, author of the Buck Rogers series and, in particular, _Armageddon — 2419 A.D._ , the book Micky is reading in this story. (Nowlan passed away in 1940 and this particular work is in the public domain.)

Mike’s eyes slowly opened as he drifted to the surface of wakefulness. Out of sheer instinct his left arm moved, questing, checking for Micky. He frowned when he felt an empty space on the other side of the bed, but then his eyes focused and he saw Micky sitting on the edge of the bed, engrossed in a book. Completely naked. Of course.

Mike smiled. Usually the only time he could enjoy looking at a still Micky was when his boyfriend was asleep. But there was one exception. Micky loved to read. His clownish behavior, manic energy, and zany sense of humor wrongly led people to believe that Micky wasn’t terribly intelligent. Sometimes Mike thought Micky preferred it that way. He’d asked Micky once and the younger boy had shrugged. “If people don’t expect very much from you, you can’t really let them down,” he finally said, half of his mouth quirking in an uncomfortable smile.

“Well, jeez, Mick, that’s not really a great way to go through life …”

“Aw, I was just kidding around,” Micky said, backpedalling while flashing him a bigger, pasted-on smile. “I don’t really mean it.”

“Micky, you’re one of the smartest, most interesting people I know. And you never let me down.”

“Stawwwp,” Micky drawled, blushing, but pushing himself into Mike’s arms and burying his face into his neck and Mike held him and told him he loved him. Because oh, did he ever.

And he loved it when Micky got to reading. If it was something that really piqued his curiosity, he’d become completely immersed and lose track of where he was and what he was doing. It wasn’t uncommon to see Micky standing in the middle of the Pad, lost in a book. Or with one hand in a sink of soapy dishes, the other clutching the newspaper. Sitting on the stairs or standing in the doorway to the sundeck. One time Mike came into the room and saw just Micky’s calves and feet over the back of the couch. One foot sporting a sock and one without; and Micky upside down, his shoulders and head on the floor, narrow little butt braced against the sofa, engrossed in an issue of _Popular Mechanics_.

“Hey, Mike,” he’d asked one day. “Do you got a dime?”

Mike, who was working on a song, shifted his guitar aside, fished around in his pocket, and came up with a coin. “Yeah, sure,” he said, pressing it into Micky’s hand. “What for?”

“I just wanna get a newspaper from the box across the street.”

“Oh, okay,” Mike said absentmindedly, going back to his song.

A minute later he heard the screeching of brakes and angry horns honking.

“Micky!” Mike cried and all but threw his guitar off and ran out the door, his heart leaping into his throat.

He saw a very alive and uninjured Micky standing in the middle of the road, the newspaper strewn over the ground, looking stricken as an angry motorist shook his fist and yelled.

“Are you outta your mind, kid? You can’t just stand in the middle of the road … reading!”

“At least I’m proof that the youth of today haven’t been completely ruined by the invention of television?” Micky said weakly.

Mike ran up and took his boyfriend by the arm. “Awfully sorry, sir. He’s not supposed to go out on his own. No harm, no foul, right?”

“You need to keep a better eye on your friend,” the man grumbled, then drove off as Mike dragged Micky back up to the house.

“You didn’t mean that, did you, Mike?” Micky asked.

“Only if you’re going to get a paper or to the library. You’ll need an alert escort from now on. Good lord, Micky, you scared me half to death.”

“I’m sorry. But do you have another dime?”

“Forget it, Micky.”

* * *

Mike assumed Micky had been getting out of bed, but couldn’t resist the paperback on his bedside table. Mike could probably jump up and down on the bed and Micky wouldn’t notice. But he didn’t want to risk it. He just enjoyed looking at his beautiful boyfriend. The way his hair curled over his neck, the long length of his naked back, down to the crack of his sweet little ass. He had one elbow braced on his knee and his cheek resting in his right hand, his left holding the book open and deftly using his thumb to turn the pages. Micky was a fast reader.

But after a few minutes, just looking at Micky wasn’t enough. Mike felt a stirring in his groin and wanted to touch his lover. Fool around a little bit. Maybe a lot. But then he got a mischievous idea and decided that he didn’t want Micky to stop reading just yet.

He slowly got up on his knees and moved in behind Micky, slipping his arms around his body to thumb his nipples while kissing the back of his neck.

Micky startled. “Oh … Mike! I didn’t know you were awake.” He went to close the book, but Mike gently stopped him.

“Don’t let me interrupt. Keep reading. Read out loud for me. I wanna know what’s so goshdarned riveting ’bout that there book.” He continued to kiss Micky’s neck, rubbing his nipples, feeling them harden under his touch.

Micky made a soft sound. “What are you talking about? How can I read when you start doing _that_?”

“Oh? Think you can’t do it? Backing down from a challenge.”

Micky laughed, a rough throaty sound as he was becoming aroused. “You’re a weird guy, Mike. But okay … challenge accepted.” Micky raised the book up again and cleared his throat before beginning to read aloud: “I visited the plants where ultronic vibrations were isolated from the ether and through slow processes built up into sub-electronic, electronic and atomic forms into the two great synthetic elements, ultron and inertron. I learned something, superficially at least, of the processes of combined chemical and mechanical action through which were produced the various forms of synthetic cloth …”

Mike grinned and went back to kiss Micky’s neck, his hands moving slowly over Micky’s body, tracing the path of his body hair, reveling in the softness of his skin as Mike nibbled on his earlobe.

Micky’s voice shook a little bit. “I … w-watched the manufacture of the machines which were used at locations of construction to produce the various forms of building materials. But I was particularly interested in the munitions plants and the rocket-ship shops.”

Mike slipped off the bed and went down on his knees, nudging Micky to spread his legs wider. Micky complied, his voice catching as he continued to read, “Ultron is a solid of great m-m-molecular density and moderate elasti- … elasti- … elasticity!, which has the property of being one hundred percent conductive to those pulsations known as light, electricity and heat. Since it is completely p-p-permeable to light vi-vibrations, it is therefore absolutely invisible and non-reflective. Its magnetic response is almost, but not quite, one hundred percent also …”

Mike trailed slow kisses up Micky’s inner thigh, pausing to lick and nip at the tender skin, feeling Micky’s hardening cock twitch against his cheek. Micky stumbled again in his recitation.

“Mmmm, I’m enjoyin’ the story,” Mike murmured. “Don’t you stop readin’ now …”

Micky gasped as Mike began to lick and suck at his balls while wrapping his fingers around Micky’s growing erection. “It is … ah … therefore very heavy under normal … conditions but extremely responsive to the repellor or anti-gravity rays, such as the Hans use as ‘legs’ for their air-airships,” he stammered. “Oh, god, Mike …”

Mike took his hand off Micky’s cock and let his balls slip from his mouth. “Hmmm, I don’t recall there being a ‘Mike’ in the story,” he said. “If you ain’t gonna tell it right, I don’t think I can stay interested, Micky …”

“You little shit,” Micky muttered under his breath, grinning.

“Hey, I didn’t sign up for no dirty cuss-book, either, mister!” Mike said with mock alarm.

“Fine, fine, fine!” Micky groused, holding the book up again and continuing, “Inertron is the second great triumph of American research and experimentation with ultronic forces. It was developed — oh boy” — (as Mike took Micky into his mouth and began to suck gently) — “just a few years before my awakening in the abandoned mine. It is a synthetic element, built up, through a complicated heterody … heterodyning of ultronic p-p-pulsations, from ‘infra-balanced’ sub-ionic forms. Ahhhhh!”

Mike groaned around Micky’s hard cock, tasting him as he leaked precome onto Mike’s tongue. He stroked Micky’s thighs, feeling the muscles tense as Micky juggled his arousal and his determination to prove to Mike that he was up for this challenge.

Micky continued to read, his voice shifting into a higher pitch, words coming faster but stumbling more. “It is completely inert to … to both electric and mag-magnetic forces in all the orders above the ultronic; that is to say — omigosh — the sub-electronic, the electronic, the atomic and the molecular. In consequence it h-h-has a number of amazing and valuable properties. One of these is the total lack of weight. Another is a total lack of heat. It has no m-m-molecular vibration whatever.”

Mike was sucking harder and faster. Micky whimpered, one hand drifting down to bury itself in Mike’s thick hair, his hips twitching. “It r-r-reflects one hundred percent of the heat and light im-impinging upon it. It does not feel cold to the touch, of course, since it will not absorb the … heat of the hand … fuck!” Micky let out a cry and threw the book down, threading the fingers of his other hand into Mike’s hair and thrusting into his mouth. “You win … I don’t care … oh god … Mike … I’m gonna … I’m gonna come … Mike!” Micky’s eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a shaky groan as he came into Mike’s mouth. Mike sucked and swallowed him down, licking him clean as Micky groaned and fell down onto his back, his body limp and shaking.

Mike let Micky’s cock slip from his mouth and rested his cheek on his lover’s quivering abdomen, feeling the rise and fall from Micky’s quick breathing. Spying the book forgotten on the bed, spine up, covers splayed open, a few pages curled under, Mike grinned. “Aw, I’m sorry … did I make you lose your spot?”

“Miiiiike!” Micky exclaimed with a sharp laugh, causing his body to shake more, raising his hands to rub over his face.

“Good morning, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too, weirdo.”


	4. The Honeymooners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Monkees land a gig at a hotel on the outskirts of Las Vegas. Their promised room falls through, but what they end up getting is better than they imagined. Now Micky just needs to convince Davy and Peter to give him and Mike a little privacy ...

The Monkees had scored an out-of-town gig at a hotel on the outskirts of Las Vegas. It was high season and they were sure to play to a packed house on the Saturday night. Mike had negotiated a room for the band as part of their fee so they could spend the night and drive back in the morning. Mike reckoned the change of scenery would be nice. Like a working mini vacation.

But the so-called “vacation” got off to a bad start when the Monkeemobile broke down halfway there. Micky was able to perform enough of a patch job on the engine to get them there on a wing and a prayer, but they were running so far behind that they didn’t even get a chance to take their overnight bags to the room, let alone eat supper. They did the world’s fastest sound check and were playing their first set less than twenty minutes later, with Micky still sporting grease stains on his hands and shirt.

After their third and final set, the tired band went to the front desk check in. And there was more trouble.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Nesmick …”

“That’s Nesmi _th_ ,” Mike corrected.

“Mr. Nesmith. I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t see your booking here. When did you make your reservation?”

“Well, see,” said Mike, “I didn’t exactly make a reservation. We’re a band. We’re _the_ band! I mean ... we're the Monkees! We just played a packed gig down in the Cabana Room and part of our fee is a room for the night because it’s a five-hour drive back to Malibu! Ricky from the Cabana Room said it would all be taken care of.”

“Ricky Fontaine, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Mmmm,” said the clerk somewhat disapprovingly. “Mr. Fontaine has a habit of making these kinds of arrangements and then neglecting to let us know.”

“Well, ma’am … we’ll take anything. Just somewhere we can rest our heads for a few hours before we head home. You gotta have something available!”

“I’m afraid our standard rooms are all booked solid this weekend, but … oh wait … I see we had a cancellation. Oh, dear …”

“Oh dear?” said Mike.

The clerk shook her head. “Oh, it’s no matter, Mr. Nesmith. Just a shame for the couple … but anyway, let me offer my apologies for the mix-up. I hope this room will make up for it. After all it’s the —”

“Micky!” Mike turned away when he detected movement in his peripheral vision and saw Micky balancing on the edge of the fountain out front. “Micky, that ain’t a paddlin’ pool! Get back in here!” He turned back to the clerk. “Sorry about that. Can’t take my eyes off that one for a second.”

“It’s perfectly all right,” said the clerk. “I was trying to explain that we’re giving you the —”

“No, no,” Mike said, turning away again to wave off an approaching bellhop. “We’re four strapping young men. Well … strapping- _ish_. We can carry our own bags, thanks … lord knows we will have to pour most of our working fee into fixing the car up.”

The clerk rolled her eyes and thrust four room keys at Mike. “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Nesmith! It’s room 1501.”

“Hey, thanks!” Mike took the keys and nodded. “C’mon, fellas, get your stuff and let’s get settled in.”

* * *

Mike was about to open the door to their room when someone called out his name. They all looked in the direction of the voice and saw the club promoter, Ricky Fontaine.

“Mike! Hey, that was a really groovy gig. I gotta talk to you for a minute. I think maybe we might have something else for you.”

“Hey, Ricky, that’s swell!” said Mike. He nodded at Micky. “You fellas take the bags in and get settled. I’ll just go talk to Ricky for a sec.”

Mike followed Ricky down the hall as Micky opened the door and the three Monkees carried their bags inside.

And then their jaws dropped in unison.

The room was enormous. The bed was enormous. There was a vase filled with a dozen long-stemmed roses.

“Lads …” said Davy quietly. “I think we got the …”

“Honeymoon suite!” exclaimed Micky, grinning. “Gosharoonie, this is outta sight! Look at the size of this room!” He dumped the bags he was carrying and ran off to explore the rest of the suite.

“It’s so fancy,” Peter said softly.

“Well, why not, huh?” said Davy. “We worked real hard today. I think we deserve a bit of the posh life for a night.”

* * *

Micky opened the bathroom door and turned on the light. The sight that greeted his eyes turned on the idea bulb over his head as well. His mind whirled and processed and he knew what he wanted to do.

Hurrying back into the main room, he saw Davy about to take his shoes off and exclaimed, “Wait, Davy! Just wait a sec. Peter, too!”

Davy looked up at him. “Huh?”

Micky looked at Davy with what he hoped was his most pleading and sincere look. “Look, guys … this is a pretty special opportunity.”

“Opportunity for what?” asked Davy suspiciously.

Micky made a _you know!_ expression, widening his eyes. “It’s a really romantic room … and … I was hoping maybe you and Peter could split for a little while. Give me and Mike some time alone … if you catch my drift. Just like … an hour? Maybe an hour and a half?”

“Okay, Micky!” Peter said cheerfully and turned to open the door, but Davy caught him by the sleeve. “’ang on, ’ang on, ’ang on just a second now!” He narrowed his eyes at Micky. “What’s in it for us?”

Micky furrowed his brow for a moment, then sighed as he realized what Davy was getting at. “Daaaavy, c’mon! Be a pal!” he whined.

“Naw, naw,” Davy insisted, planting his feet. “It’s been a long day and we’re knackered, and we landed this sweet …” he paused for a moment, then made a face “… _suite_. And you’re telling us to bugger off so you can get laid! I ask you again, mate … what’s in it for us? Make it worth our while and we’ll consider it.”

“Yeah!” Peter said, sticking out his lower lip and nodding defiantly. “Make it worth our while!” Then he whispered into Davy’s ear, “What’s worth our while, Davy?”

“Shhhh!” Davy hissed. “Lemme do the talkin’.”

“There’s the casino downstairs!” said Micky. “Look, I can give you …” he dug into his pocket and extracted two crumpled bills. “Two bucks! You can play the nickel slots to your hearts’ content!”

Peter’s eyes widened and he reached for the bills, but Davy gently batted his hand away. “Nickel slots!” he scoffed. “You must be joking! You think we wanna hang out there with the lil’ old grannies? You can do better than that. And besides … I’m famished! We didn’t have time for supper after sound check. I want two roast beef dinners and … and … a few rounds at the quarter slots!”

“Aw man, you’re nearly cleaning me out of my share of our pay for the gig!” Micky whined.

Davy shrugged and made to shove past Micky to get to the telephone. “Fine … then I can order room service from here …”

“No, no!” Micky said quickly, then countered, “Okay. Two _chicken_ dinners and five bucks — _to share_ — for the quarter slots!”

“Deal!” said Davy, sticking out his hand. The two men shook, Micky gave them the money. “Nice doin’ business with ya,” said Davy, smirking. “C’mon, Pete … let’s go eat …”

“Have fun!” Peter said happily, following Davy out the door.

Micky rushed to the bathroom to set up his plan.

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, Mike entered the room and stopped dead in his tracks. “What in the …” he took off his hat and scratched his head, letting out a low whistle as he took in the spacious suite. “Well, I’ll be … I ain’t never seen … wait a minute …” He furrowed his brow and called out, “Hey … fellas? Where did y’all go? Is there another room inside this room that I ain’t seein’?”

“Follow the sound of my voice!”

One side of Mike’s mouth quirked up when he heard Micky’s girlish trill. It was slightly muffled yet echoey … he must be in the bathroom.

“You can finish up your business and meet me here.”

“Oh, no … you really need to come in here, Mike! Please?”

“All right, all right,” Mike called back. “I’m comin’!”

“Oh, you bet you will be …”

Mike opened the door and his jaw dropped a second time. Micky was in the bathtub. An enormous, red, heart-shaped bathtub. The water steamed and was filled with bubbles. Micky held a long-stemmed rose between his teeth and, giving a cheesy grin and waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Mike burst out laughing. “Micky! What on earth … and hey, where are Davy and Peter?”

Micky removed the rose from his mouth and smelled it. “I convinced them to give us a little bit of privacy to enjoy some of the features of our upgraded accommodations.”

“You mean you paid ’em off.”

“Well, if you want to be indelicate about it …”

Mike shook his head. “You’re too much, babe. Too much.”

“Never!” Micky declared. “Now get in here with me! How many times will we get access to a gigantic heart-shaped tub?”

“Aw, I dunno, Micky. I’m pretty tired. It’s been a long night, dig?”

Micky shook his head. “No, I definitely do not dig, _Michael_.”

Uh-oh. Unlike Peter, who routinely used the full version of Mike’s name as a kind of endearment, when Micky called him Michael, he meant business.

And Micky stood up very slowly and deliberately, meeting Mike’s gaze. Until Mike’s eyes slipped down over Micky’s naked body, glistening and wet, bubbles and suds sliding down his chest and stomach. His cock was erect, jutting out from his body, flushed and red and demanding attention.

Mike gave a rueful grin and unbuttoned the top buttons of his band shirt to make it easier to slip off. “Well, I haven’t done those calculations yet, but I reckon chances at irregular-shaped tubs are low on the whole.”

Micky nodded and slowly sat back down again. “That’s more like it.”

“As if I even stood a chance. With you there … all naked and … sudsy …”

Micky grinned wolfishly, then let out a matching sort of whistle as Mike shrugged out of his shirt, and then beginning to sing the tune of “The Stripper.”

“Ba-da-baaaaaa ba-da-dum-baaaaaa, ba-dum-paaaaaa …”

Mike rolled his eyes, but did a little bump and grind to appease Micky, turning around and wiggling his butt as he opened up his pants. Micky whistled even louder and began chanting, “Take it off! Take it off!”

And then Mike was stepping into the ridiculous novelty bathtub and letting out a sigh as the hot, soapy water enveloped him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a long, hot bath just for the sake of it.

And then Mike was enveloped by Micky, his body warm and soap-slick as he embraced Mike, kissing him slowly and slipping his tongue into his mouth.

And then it was long moments of kissing and teasing and touching and stroking. Soft moans and sighs floating in the steamy air, and then Micky pleading softly. “Mike … I need it … Mike, please … there’s lube in my shaving kit …”

Mike pulled one of the big bath towels down and spread it over the fluffy red bath mat. And then he laid Micky down on top of it and screwed him right there, their groans and cries echoing off the tile, their wet, soapy skin growing even hotter as they moved desperately together. And then Micky keened and cried out Mike’s name as he came, back arching and Mike bit his neck and sucked a purple hickey there. Marking his boy. His heart.

“I love you, Micky,” he groaned and then he was coming, too, spending himself inside Micky, who clung to him, legs wrapped possessively around his waist. His Mike. “I love you, too,” he murmured hot into Mike’s ear as he climaxed.

And then it was back into the tub to clean off and cuddle and kiss a little more before reluctantly draining the water and donning the two complimentary fluffy terrycloth robes with the hotel logo embroidered on the breast pocket.

They stood and regarded the huge double-king bed, noting that it was the only bed in the suite, so they’d all be sharing it together. Which was fine. Wouldn’t be the first time they’d all slept shoulder to shoulder, four to a bed. But this bed was so huge they could probably all sleep through the night without even brushing elbows.

And then the door burst open, startling Mike and Micky, who turned around to see Davy and Peter come in, followed by two beautiful women, and a hotel clerk pushing a room service cart.

“Guys … what is all this?” said Mike.

“Wouldn’t you know it,” said Davy, hooking his thumb in Peter’s direction. “Puts a quarter in the machine … wins the bloody jackpot!”

“No foolin’!” Micky exclaimed, then looked delighted. “So, hey … that never woulda happened if I hadn’t paid you two to take off for a little while. So … maybe you can have a heart and give me my twenty bucks back?

“We’ll think about it,” said Davy, but Peter grinned and plucked a bill from his pocket and handed it to Micky.

Davy rolled his eyes. “Or not. You know what they say about the fool and his money … anyway, so we thought you two might be hungry after … you know … so we bought you two roast beef dinners.”

And then Davy and Peter and held up two hotel room keys. “And our own rooms!” said Peter.

“The very lovely Marianne and Sadie will ensure we don’t get too lonely,” said Davy, nodding at the blonde, who smiled and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “So, enjoy your late supper, boys, and the suite. We’ll see you in the morning.” Davy then plucked another bill from Peter’s pocket to tip the clerk, who nodded in thanks and showed himself out. Peter then reached into his pocket and withdrew a bundle of bills and handed it to Mike.

“Here, Michael. I think it’s safest leaving it with you.”

“Well, geez, Peter … it’s your money. You won it fair and square and … sheesh, there’s gotta be about five hundred dollars here!”

“There was six hundred,” said Peter, “but I felt real bad for the little old lady who’d been playing the machine before me. Said she must have pumped fifty dollars worth of quarters in it, so I gave her some.”

Mike smiled, shaking his head. It was entirely possible that Peter got scammed, but maybe not. He had such a generous heart that Mike never wanted to do anything to disabuse him of his compassion, even if it meant that Peter got taken advantage of now and again. They did their best to protect him.

“I’ll keep an eye on this and give it back to you tomorrow.”

“No, Michael,” Peter said, holding hands with the tall brunette. “I didn’t do anything to earn that money. I don’t feel right keeping it all for myself. I want the Monkees to have it. You know … it can help buy gas and food and parts for the Monkeemobile … and Mr. Babbitt would sure like his rent on time for once.”

“You’re a good egg, Peter,” said Mike. He nodded at the girl. “He’s real sweet, our Pete. You take good care of him … Marianne?”

“Sadie,” the girl replied, then kissed Peter on the cheek. “And don’t worry … I will …”

“Good night!” Davy said with a cheery wave, and the other two Monkees departed to have their own private parties in their own rooms.

Mike and Micky looked at each other, then at the room service cart as they finally registered the delicious smells comes from the steaming plates. They both eagerly pulled up chairs and Micky switched on the television “And it’s a color TV! Outta sight!”

Micky found a John Wayne cowboy picture on TV and they tucked into their food and watched the film, both feeling like they really were the luckiest people in the whole world.

Who now had a honeymoon suite all to themselves. And they didn’t even have to get married.

“You think I could do a full cartwheel on that bed and not fall off the other side?”

“I think you’re going to find out no matter what I say.”

“Yeah, probably. I think maybe we should have another bath later.”

“Mmmm. The thoughts I’m having need a bath of their own.”

“Yum. But let’s watch the movie first. This is a really good one.”

* * *

They ended up falling asleep well before the film’s credits rolled, curled up together in the huge bed as the TV station signed off for the night and went to a test pattern. But they’d find time for another bath in the morning before checkout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw a picture of a heart-shaped bathtub on Tumblr and this next chapter just appeared in my head. These fluffy mini-fics are nice palate cleansers for me so I can keep working on my bigger projects (there is a new chapter of You Know You're the One for me in the works ...). Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
